


Burn

by Satan In Purple (purple_satan)



Category: Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Rare Pairings, everyone's pansexual in space i don't make the rules, insubordination turn-on, its lonely out in space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 18:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_satan/pseuds/Satan%20In%20Purple
Summary: "There’s always a plan.” Because there always is, even if not everyone is privy to it. “And when the time comes I expect you to follow it,captain.”





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to [brittlelimbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittlelimbs/) for lighting a fire under my ass to post this (not) crackship!

 

 

Amilyn Holdo has been kissed by men under her command before, trysts quietly nestled amongst the years of becoming a distinguished Resistance fleet commander. She's kissed a fair amount of men (and more than one woman) who thought they were going to die. Men she sent off to their deaths. Sex and rushed intimacy nothing new in times of war, the mixed rush of emotions and adrenaline. People doing stupid things to feel alive.

So when Captain Poe Dameron looks at her with his messy curls and bedroom eyes, licks his lips — _oh, this one likes a challenge_ — she sees a man not to be trifled with when it comes to insubordination. A man who’s played the odds and won by the skin of his teeth too many times to not question his own reckless actions, whatever they may be.

She’s playing with fire just being in his proximity. He's not a man she should ever follow, especially as a leader herself, but she finds herself following him off the bridge anyway.

 _“Captain,”_ she calls to his back, once they're alone.

He freezes in place, turns around fast enough she catches the minute tick that crosses his features, displeasure quickly masked with a lazy smile. Has the audacity to walk up closer, crowding her personal space and encircle her forearm. Thumb pressing into radial bone just above her bracelet. His grip on her loose, like his fake grin.

Her attention, then. They _always_ want attention.

Hot-blooded, thrill seeking, flyboys with their ships and stunts and grand, attention-seeking ideas.

Dameron has hope in his desperate eyes, but it’s cloudy now. Not nearly as bright as it was before and something inside her loosens the grip on what little hope she has herself seeing it. Slivers of doubt punch her in the gut as he opens his mouth, then closes it. Her dressing down on the bridge having had even more of an impact than she originally thought.

Her gaze flits from his eyes to his lips, waiting for the tirade that doesn’t come.

“You have my attention now, Captain. Make it quick.”

“I hope you have a plan.”

The image of General Leia in a hospital bed, shrouded in white. Looking all the fabled sleeping princess to wake up and save them she is. To the backup plans they went over in detail, the Resistance survival solely in her hands for an indefinite amount of time. If she despairs, Admiral Amilyn Holdo cannot, _will not_ show it. She can’t extinguish the hope they have, it’ll soon be all they are running off of.

“There’s always a plan.” Because there always is, even if not everyone is privy to it.

“And when the time comes I expect you to follow it, _captain._ ”

He lets go of her arm as if he were burned. She finds herself still a ship in his orbit, careening recklessly to the planets surface. His inescapable gravitational pull has her striding across, bridging the gap between them now so they’re only inches apart. This hotshot thinks he’s got great ideas about how things should go, how they’re going to win. But it will take more than a hairbrained scheme in a well-piloted X-wing blowing up stuff to solve the situation they’re in.

_Oh, he’s angry now._

The fire’s back, even more reckless than he is in a cockpit. Playing fast and loose with his emotions in front of her. Burning, radiating with that kind of self-righteous anger that stabs at the person in small bursts instead of rolling waves. A spark in his eye she knows too well when he advances, tilting his chin up and capturing her mouth none too gently in a kiss that quickly turns open-mouthed and savage.

If he’s surprised she reciprocates, he doesn’t waste time showing it.

Tamping fire down just enough it’s only the dullest edge of pain, he moves from her lips. Bites down her jaw. Chases his frustration on her skin, inch by inch. Rage having boiled down to a specific point, he kisses her with the same fire that’s led people to their demise in the past, his _and_ hers. Trading moments for minutes, she lets him lead her in a familiar dance that ends up with her back her up against a wall. Cold metal kisses her shoulder blades, contrast to his feverish skin around her. A hand cupping the back of her neck, the other still on her forearm, now pressing tight.

She smiles into the kiss, digging her blunt fingernails into the back of his neck, skimming dark curls. Bends when she would not earlier on the bridge so they do not break.

This is an acceptable compromise.

Here she will listen to him.

Listen to the telltale adrenaline beat of his heart jackhammering in his chest as it presses flush against hers. Listen to the clatter of her hairpiece on the ground as his hands tangle in her purple hair, the sound drown out by rustling fabric and shuffling footsteps. The low drone of machinery around them and the sound of their heavy breaths between kisses. His thigh a steady press between her legs so she doesn’t have to stand tall, if only for a brief moment. Fingers nimbly mapping the topography of her body like constellations on star charts, flitting from one galaxy to the next in hyperspace jumps far too quickly for her liking.

He kisses her and it reminds her of someone she knew before now gone, many someone's all across the galaxy. Scoundrels have a certain air about them you can see as soon as they smile and make promises they’d never hope to keep.

“I’ll find out,” he rasps into her ear when he finally pulls away. The fire of his lips brush the shell of it, something inside her melts. “If you won’t tell me the plan, I’ll still find it out.”

_Promises, promises._

“I have no doubt,” she replies, high and breathy. So unlike the even voice she gives orders in its embarrassing.

She clutches his forearms hard enough to bruise, a two-way snare. A heavy weight finds itself lodged in her chest as she sees only stars and space behind him from the hazy glow of the room’s only viewport, the once proud fleet of ships surrounding them now absent. The _Raddus_ limping along like a wounded animal with the last dregs of the Resistance inside, rabid jaws of the First Order closing in on them. Poe Dameron closing in on her even closer, fingers bunching in the fabric of her skirt and the fate of the Resistance in her hands now well and truly, only hours to spare. The clock ticking as their fuel wanes away.

And she’s crowded up against a wall with a demoted captain because she can’t stay away from that same spark that destroyed so much in the first place.

Counting the heartbeats before he opens his mouth again, he’s in no position to be giving her orders _—giving orders at all, really—_ but someone who would indulge a man as reckless as they come, letting them crawl under her skin and make a home for the night is really not one able to pass judgement.

“We need to—” he begins, in between scorching kisses, and this time _she listens._

Lets him make those promises that keep his hope alive because underneath it all, she needs to burn as much he does. 

**Author's Note:**

> if it fits i ships! follow me on tumblr @ [purple-satan-fic ](http://purple-satan-fic.tumblr.com) for fic updates or [satan-in-purple](http://satan-in-purple.tumblr.com) for my regular tumblr!


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